Date: Wed, 2 Mar 2005 01:29:34 -0000
From: non de plume <czykguy@hotmail.com>
Subject: BOYLOVER'S TALES - The Boy 'David' - Part 1

	BOYLOVER'S TALES - THE BOY `DAVID' Part one by Czykguy 2003

This is a fantasy and should be read as one or is it drawn from your life,
your time, your expectations - who can tell in this day and age; but if it
touches a nerve, fulfils a dream then contact me at czykguy@hotmail.com and
let me know
     I first met David when I was fourteen going on fifteen. I was then at
Secondary School and I was having a bad time. Don't let anyone tell you they
were the best of days, at least for me they were the worst and I dreaded
getting up every morning to go to school. I did not fit in with the all-male
environment; I had spent most of my junior years playing with the girls with
whom I had felt an affinity and I felt I was now a fish out of water,
especially as I did not have any proper friends, at least no-one I was close
to.
     I had taken to adopting some of my younger brother's friends as almost
mine. Although we were close in age, two years and four months, we had little
else in common, but I did have and still do have a great imagination and I
could invent games that we could play, often with myself and one other pitted
against the others. Games of non-violence, but involved territorial rights
and capture of flags, HQ's or freeing of prisoners and they followed me, not
as their leader, more as a provider of ideas which in their collective
fashion they adopted or not as they together saw fit. There was no
competition to be my-side kick, it was just understood that it was a duty
taken in turns with one exception, my brother was never `on my side'.
     That summer we had got fed up of the park, there was a new keeper who
always seemed to be on duty whenever we wanted to play and he didn't want us
`messing up the park' as he put it. The other keeper's had turned a blind eye
to our actions, we were known by them as boys who did not injure trees or
plants, we just used the hidden areas and undergrowth and the wild areas to
play our games, but this new keeper was not likeable so we did our best to
avoid him. As a result of his attitude, that summer we ended up using the
local recreation ground to play in.
     Known as `the wreck', to differentiate it from all the other `Rec's' in
the borough, `our wreck' was a patch of grassland bounded on two sides by a
long high cement covered broken glass topped brickwall; this formed the
backwall to the gardens of overlooking houses and was itself distanced from
the playground and open area by a concrete path, which followed the line of
the wall. The ground between the path and the wall the ground inclined
upwards to the base of the wall and was complemented by a line of grassed
trees, which provided cover. On the other two sides were spiked railing
fences which protected us from traffic bearing roads. There was a line of
houses on the opposite sides to the railings, so we were constantly being
reminded by parents of the need to be aware of the dangers of traffic.
Originally it had been bounded by houses on all sides but with the need to
make roads bigger, the community had lost a part of its amenity to progress
and the streets had been turned into the busy roads.
     The wreck had an area covered in hard tarmac and on this was built the
swings and other play equipment. One of the most popular playthings being a
pile of cemented pipes that could be crawled through or crawled over; a
perfect `castle' and it had a much larger grassy area with a few flower beds
near the busy roads, upon which the large scale ball games were played.
     We would meet at various times, dependent on mother's working
arrangements and we would be there from morning till late. A game could go on
all day and had a fluid cast, as the summer progressed other kids who used
the wreck to play in, began to join in and sometimes there would be as many
as twenty boys and the occasional girl, joining in the idea, or `game' of the
day.
Usually I was the oldest; some lads would leave their younger brothers
with me and go off to play in another part of the ground, mostly energetic
ball games in which young inexperienced boys were not wanted. Sometimes we
would play ball games but these did not require skill and although there were
two teams often nothing was scored, we just needed to run and get rid of
excess steam. Often I would sit aside to watch as the lads ran around when
this happened, my size was an unfair advantage and my lack of any ball skill
a personal embarrassing detraction.
     I did not know all the new boys by name, but it did not matter, I just
allocated people as they arrived, knowing which side was down by number. As
time went by I also got to learn the new boy's skills and talents and would
use this to balance the teams. Some I did get to know and David was one of
them.
I don't remember when he first arrived. I do recall what he looked like, as
it was often what most looked like. He had short `back and sides cut'
blondish hair and a thin face with large blue eyes and slightly darker
eyebrows. He wore the regulation shirt, jumper, grey flannel school shorts
and grey socks and black shoes. None of your modern day track suit and
designer trainers. What we wore to school is what we had to play in, we had
to face the consequences if any of it got damaged or ripped. Some were lucky
enough to have long trousers or jeans; this depended on how rich your parents
were. If you were really rich you wore baseball boots, a recent `must have'
innovation from America which is where we all wanted to live. I had tried a
pair of these on in the shop but to my chagrin and my mother's relief I did
not have baseball boot sized feet, so I was reduced to last year's shoes
which pinched a bit but in the heat of the game was never an issue.
     I think I first became aware of David as an individual one summer day
when those that were left were bundled in the `dungeon', one of the cement
pipes, when it was raining. Those that had not run for home sought shelter
where they could and this was a favoured place, others being under one of the
large trees or against a wall where the rain could not reach. These were
usually the province of the bigger boys who were very rude and unkind to
anyone who dared invade their territory.
     I do recall pulling in the boy who was nearest to me so that he could
sit on my lap, thereby making room for another body as the rain lashed down.
David, for it was he, huddled in close to me and as the others moved in
closer to let as many others in, I remember that he smelt nice up against my
face and as my hands naturally fell between his legs, I was also conscious of
a certain hardness that pulsed gently, as we sat there through the downpour.
I also noted that David made no attempt to move my hand, which now cuddled
his small erection through his trousers.
     The shower over we returned to our game, running wildly through the
puddles, splashing each other as well as we could, desperately trying to
avoid being splashed in return. Every so often I would stop and look for
David, watching him run around with the others, wondering had it actually
happened like that in the tunnel. At one point I wanted it to rain as before
just in case it could happen again.
     At this point in my life I was sexually active if not aware. I usually
masturbated daily, it became a go to sleep habit and I had had an experience
with my sixteen year old Patrol Leader at a Scout summer camp. Ollie, the
Patrol Leader had come into the tent late one night, he had been with the
other Patrol Leaders who had slipped off to a local pub where they had all
enjoyed the local `scrumpy' cider. It was Ollie's first such trip to a pub
and he had enjoyed himself very much. He was also very unused to alcohol and
the scrumpy had affected him greatly.
     As I was sleeping next to him, being the junior member of the patrol, I
was the one he disturbed when he initially came in. Dozily I watched in the
bright moonlight as he tried to undress himself in the confined space and
then giving up, went back outside the tent to complete the task. Luckily it
was a hot summer and a very warm night or he would have soon suffered from
the cold. I sleepily watched him through the tent flap as he managed to get
his clothes off and then was woken wide awake as he began to play with his,
to me very large cock, it growing even bigger as he masturbated.
     I watched entranced as he stroked his cock, just like I did to mine,
then he seemed to stagger and lose his balance, having to let go of his cock
to steady himself. Again he began to masturbate and again he lost his
balance, this time falling to his knees almost on top of me. Immediately I
got out of my sleeping bag and rushed to his aid. He was a lot heavier than I
was and I found it difficult to pull him up. The scrumpy was increasing its
effect and he was giggling and unable to control his movements.
      Finally using me as a prop he pulled himself up on his feet and stood
swaying slightly, his arm loosely, around my neck. We leant against the tent
pole using it as an extra support. Ollie sighed and said, "Thanks," in a very
slurred way, his breath against my face smelt horrible and I assumed that he
would now go to bed.
     To my surprise, now that he was stable he began to once again stroke his
cock. In the clear moonlight I was able to see his cock in great detail and
was fascinated as his cock responded to his manipulations. I found myself
comparing methods and noted that he spat into his palm and rubbed the very
head of his cock into this, to me slimy, mess. I remember thinking that that
must feel terrific and longed to try it myself. All at once he swayed and
lost momentum. He swore gently and started again only to once again lose
control. As he steadied himself, he shook his head and reached for his cock
and missed. Again he swore gently and sagged against me, disappointment
showing in his face and stance.
     "Would you like me to finish it of for you?" I found myself saying.
     Ollie turned to me, his eyes glazing without a proper focus, "Would
you?" he asked, his words slurred as before.
     I nodded in reply and took his cock in my hand and began to manipulate
it as I had seen him do. His cock felt odd in my hand but also good too and I
began to enjoy what I was doing. I was aware that my own cock was hard and
was bulging through my pyjamas. Ollie's cock felt harder and hotter in my
hand and he was moaning gently, his breaths now coming in shorter gasps.
     "Faster," he gasped, "spit in your palm," he added swaying slightly.
Carefully I spat into the palm of my hand and did as he had done, caressing
the wet tip of his throbbing penis in my now lubricated fist. His cock
throbbed harder and his own lubricant now began to leak into and out of my
clenched fingers. I pumped harder and faster conscious of his tensing arm
around my head and down my arm, urging me on. My own cock had now freed
itself and was poking through the fly of my pyjamas, rubbing up against the
pyjama cord which despite its roughness felt good against my cock.
     Ollie was urging me faster and faster, faster than I had done to myself
and I felt his excitement as his climax neared. Suddenly he drew a deep
moaning breath and thrust himself forward, his cock spitting forth his sperm.
I was conscious of holding my own breath as he ejaculated and elated as his
cock threw his sperm far into the night. As he sagged back against me I
transferred my hand from his cock to mine and in no time at all my own sperm
followed his into the night.
     We stood there and then Ollie yawned, "Bedtime," he said and I helped
him into the tent.
     I gave up trying to get him into his own pyjamas, he was just too heavy
and limp, in the end I just wrapped his open sleeping bag around him as best
I could and slipped back into my own. I fell asleep looking at him lying
there and all I could see was his cock spurting, over and over.
     It must have been a couple of hours later that I woke up, my cock hard
with the need to piss. Quickly, shivering slightly I slipped out of the tent
and walked into the wooded area which we used for urinating. Back inside the
tent I settled myself down inside my bag and tried to go back to sleep. Again
I found myself looking at Ollie and seeing his cock and wondering did it
really happen.
As I watched Ollie, stirring slightly in his sleep, I was overtaken with an
urge to see his cock once again. I don't know how long I lay there with this
urge, this need growing larger and larger and more urgent until finally I
summed up my courage and reached outside my sleeping bag. Tentatively I
touched the edge of Ollie's sleeping bag and then as my need grew even more
stronger I slipped my hand inside and began to feel for his cock.
     At my initial cold touch against his warm skin, Ollie started but did
not make any other movements. Carefully I eased my way down his chest, past
his stomach to the first rough feel of his pubic hair. So close to my goal I
decided that I wanted to see it as well as feel it, so instead of moving down
into his groin, I began to tug the sleeping bag away from his body.
     At last the bag was clear of his groin and I was able to see his, now
thin cock, nestled amongst his dark forest of pubic hair, slowly moving in
time with his sleeping breathing. Almost nose to cock I found myself lying on
my side, taking in the heady aroma that rose from his genitals, much more to
my taste that the earlier pong from his alcoholic breath. Carefully I
smoothed the dormant fleshy strip and watched entranced again as his cock
began to rise, gaining thickness and height so that it towered above my head.
     The puckered foreskin straightened and flattened as his cock rose to
full erection and the pink of his glans could be seen through the opening
gap. I began to smooth the foreskin up and down, up and down, each stroke
bringing his cock closer and closer to my face until finally I was able to
feel the silky smoothness of his cock against my cheek. I could also smell
the warm tangy cock aroma that rose even stronger from his groin.
     I was then aware that his body had changed its state and worried I
looked up from his cock to his face. Ollie was smiling, but he was still
asleep and he twitched gently. Assured I went back to my task and began to
stroke him gently as before. His cock was throbbing; a live animal and it
appeared to be stretching, reaching skywards, pulsating as I manipulated it.
I became aware that Ollie's pelvis was also moving, thrusting slightly
upward. Again I checked to find that Ollie was still fast asleep, although
the smile had been replaced with a look of sexual tension. I returned to my
slow caress of his now throbbing hot cock, noticing that the tip was
beginning to glisten as his own lubricant began to leak across the reddening
tip.
     As I stroked, some of his pre-cum, as I was later to learn what it was
called, dribbled down my hand and on to my face. It smelt salty and spicy and
for some reason I then did not fathom, caused my own excitement to rise and I
felt my own cock throbbing in time with Ollie's. His thrusting movements were
more urgent and I was, at times, out of synch with my manipulation of his
foreskin.
I now moved my position so that his movements brought his cock directly into
contact with my face, with each simple thrust his cock caressed my cheek. I
felt him tense and then with eyes wide open watched as his cock exploded onto
my face covering my nose and lips and cheeks with his sperm. At almost the
same time, as though his ejaculation was the trigger I felt my own cock
shoot, even though I had not touched it at all. I lay there, my head now on
his trembling stomach, as his orgasm subsided and the sperm oozing from his
cock mixed with that sliding down off my face. At last feeling a happy sleepy
sensation radiating through my body, I eased away from him and snuggled down
inside my sleeping bag, feeling like I was glowing as bright as the sun if
not the moon.
     The next morning I woke when the sun broke intermittently through the
tent flap as it moved in the early breeze, blinking across my face. Initially
I startled, then as the memory of last night thrust itself on my brain I
quickly looked at Ollie. He was fast asleep, his body tangled up in his
sleeping bag. I looked carefully but his groin area was completely covered. I
leaned over him and adjusted the tent flap so that it stayed closed and lay
back in my bag trying to get back to sleep. I was lucky. Without the
disturbance of the sun I was able to doze back into a fitful sleep until the
sounds of a waking camp brought me back to full wakefulness. Again I glanced
at Ollie, he was still sound asleep.
     Throughout the day I found myself watching him, hoping for some
indication of what had happened during the night. It was not to be, although
he did take a lot of stick from the other's who had been with him at the pub.
Initially he did suffer from a hangover of some kind but this soon passed and
he was able to rebuff some of the remarks that were thrown at him. It was
clear however that his memory of what had happened stopped shortly after
entering the pub, he was unable to recall anything that had happened after
leaving the pub and waking up in the morning. This made me feel both happy
and sad.
     For me I now took a great interest in cocks, everyone's cocks and there
were a lot on display. As there was a lake in our field we were allowed with
supervision to go swimming and as we were isolated we were allowed to swim
nude. If you did put on swimming trunks then it was guaranteed that they
would be forcibly removed by the others. One boy, Tom did this several times
and it seemed to me he did it deliberately so that the others would jump on
him and strip him. He did not have an interesting cock; it was thin and worm-
like, so I did not pursue any interest in him.
     It was also acceptable behaviour to grab each other's cocks whilst
swimming, although I soon learned that you had to be careful if the older
boys were swimming. It was OK to make a grab for Ollie if it was a Patrol
swim, but if it was a general swimming session then such a contact would
result in a severe ducking.
     I had no contact with Ollie's cock for a couple of days and despite
seeing it several times, what I wanted was to touch it, to hold it, to stroke
it, and see him spurt his spunk again. At night I would carefully toss
myself, using my flannel to hide my own spunk, making sure I washed it clean
before using it to wash with, but it was Ollie's spunk I wanted to
experience.
     Three nights after `the night', I woke up in the middle of the night.
Again it was a warm moonlit night and I found myself staring at the lump that
was Ollie lying next to me. In the white moonlight I thought I could see the
lump that had to be his cock and I found myself tentatively reaching out to
stroke the bulge, only to find it was a simple fold of cloth. Unable to stop
myself I began to explore his sleeping bag until at last I found the squishy
lump that had to be his cock. Carefully I started to squeeze it, feeling it
hardening when to my horror Ollie moved and worse of all, woke up.
     "Whassermatter," he said sleepily, his hand appearing out of his bag to
rub his eyes. "Oh it's you," he said, smoothing back his hair from his face,
long hair was the youthful teenage rebellion of the times, "Do you want to go
out?" he asked.
     I had already removed my offending hand and just nodded my `yes'.
     "Think I'll go too," he said, "I need a slash as well."
     With that we both, clad in only our pyjamas barefooted our way to the
wood where, whilst I struggled to produce a respectable stream, he easily
managed his own waterfall, I just wanted to watch his cock as he pissed
jealous of his hand around it and when he shook the last few drops I was
aware my cock had begun to harden
     "Needed that," he whispered, waving his cock in the air, throwing the
last droplets in a wide circle. "Finished?" he added and again I nodded. We
went back to the tent and I fell into a disappointed sleep.
     It was another two nights before the boys repeated their trip to the
pub. I was well asleep when the noise of their and Ollie's return woke me. I
stuck my head out of the bottom of the tent to investigate the noise that had
awakened me. Ollie was being held by three of them and was arguing drunkenly.
     "Wana go fer a shwim," he said, "lerra go, gotta swum."
     "For fuck's sake Ollie. Don't be a prat. You can't go swimming at this
time of the night and especially when your drunk," said Mark one of the older
Patrol Leaders and then turning to the others said, "I don't believe it. He's
worse than last time when he kept pulling out his prick as we walked along
an' he hasn't drunk anywhere near as much tonight. I said he'd be a
liability. What the fuck are we going to do with him?"
     "Put him to bed," answered Harry, who was holding one of Ollie's arms.
Ollie was still muttering about "schwimmimg" as they discussed what to do.
     "Well I don't fancy trying to get him into his sleeping bag," said Mark,
"we may just as well tie him up to a tree until he's slept if off. When Bob
(the Scoutmaster) sees the mess he's in we will be for it. Just our fucking
luck," he added annoyed.
     At this point I spoke up, "I'll do it," I said.
     The boys spun around at the sound of my voice. Cries of "whose that?"
and "what the fuck?" and "Christ you scared the shit out of me!" were thrown
at me as I exited the tent and went to join them.
     "It's OK," I explained, "I got him to bed last time and I'll be able to
do it again. Just leave him with me."
     Mark was not so sure but as the other's all wanted to get into their
beds he finally gave in. "You sure you can manage him shrimp?" he asked.
     "Yes, Yes," I said, "I did him last time and I'll be able to do him
again. It's OK I'll manage."
     They left whispering their thanks and goodnights and I as at last left
with a muttering Ollie.
     "Schwim," he said.
     "No," I said and grabbing him by his cock which I noticed was showing
through his open flies, "Let's have a wank instead," as I grabbed him his
cock started showing signs of interest.
     "OK," he said and soon I was once again holding him up naked by the tent
door, working his thick cock. All too soon he was thrusting into my spit-
covered hand, shooting his load through my fingers. Quickly I dropped my
pyjama bottoms and rubbed my throbbing cock against his slimy throbbing
organ, covering him with my own spunk.
     Now docile I manoeuvred him into the tent and arranged him on his
sleeping bag so that I had complete access to his body. I also removed my
pyjamas so that we were both naked. Whilst he lay back sleepily I began to
work on his cock again longing to experience the sensation of him exploding
onto my face. It did not take too long before his sperm was dripping down my
face and onto his oozing cock. Such was the height of my excitement I found
myself rubbing myself against his groin until I too shot a second heavy load.
I lay on top of him for what seemed like ages and then wanting to see his
cock again I resumed my position and began to stroke his squishy lump again.
To my surprise he did get erect again though not as hard as before and it
took a long time before he ejaculated a small amount of semen, which mostly
bubbled rather than shot out. I wiped it over my face, revelling in his
smell.
     The next morning like before he had no memory of what had happened and
he suffered a much longer period of hangover. The others like the previous
time ribbed him mercilessly and also included me as his nanny. He gave me a
couple of odd looks but took the ribbing in good part and was soon back to
his old self.
     It was later in the day that we were swimming when I chanced upon him on
his own lying half in and half out of the water. He was lying back lazily and
I swam up and lay beside him.
     "You OK?" I asked as he looked somewhat tired.
     "I'm not sure," he answered, "Last night, did I really do what they all
said I did?"
     "Well I wasn't there all the time," I replied, "but you were well out of
it and they were trying to stop you going for a swim when you all woke me up.
That's when I said I'd get you to bed, cos' they were going to tie you up to
stop you actually trying to jump in the lake."
     "Did I do anything else?" he asked, a concerned note in his voice.
     "Why?" I replied, feeling tense wondering was he finally remembering
what I had done to him.
     "Well," he said slowly, "I, look I don't want to appear daft," he added,
genuine concern on his face, "and please, please don't tell anyone else this
but something is wrong with my dick."
     "Your dick," I exclaimed more worried than before.
     "Yes look," he said, sitting up and exposing his genitals to me.
     I looked. He was right, his knob end was red and looked sore. He pulled
back his foreskin to show me the pink tip, only it wasn't pink, it was a sore
looking reddish colour. I was now worried, had I damaged him in any way. I
did not know if in making him come so many times that quickly I had caused
his current discomfort. Unable to stop myself I reached out and touched his
cock, taking it from his hand.
     "It does look sore," I said, staring at it intently and manipulating the
foreskin gently. To my surprise it began to thicken in my hand and Ollie
embarrassed pulled my hand away.
     "Sorry," he said, "I didn't expect it to do that. It does feel sore
though."
     "Better let Bob or one of the other's have a look," I told him revelling
in the sight of his semi erection. Whatever was wrong it didn't seem like it
was anything I had done.
     "I suppose your right," he said lying back in the water his cock
throbbing just slightly across his stomach and added, "thanks for last
night."
     "That's OK," I said lying back so that I could watch his cock pulse,
thinking "Thank you for last night as well." In my mind's eye all I could see
was his cock, spunking and spunking. Quickly I moved away before he could see
my cock thickening.
     Later that evening he called me over and we went round the back oft the
tent where we would not be disturbed.
     "I saw Bob," he said, "you know about my knob."
     I nodded my enquiry.
     "Its OK," he said relieved, "He thinks that I've rubbed up against some
poison ivy or something like that. He's given me some ointment," and showed
me a tube of something.
     Ever anxious to please I asked, "Do you want me to rub it on for you.
Make sure it goes in all the right places?"
     At first he looked at me a little oddly and then said, "Perhaps it would
be better. It seems to hurt more when I touch it. OK we'll give it a go."
     Without further ado he slipped down his shorts and handed me the tube.
Carefully I spread some of the clear ointment on my finger and began to work
it into the reddish part of his cock. As before it began to thicken and
eventually with some careful un-obvious stroking I got him fully erect.
Embarrassed as he was, at what his cock was doing, Ollie let me rub the
ointment in for a few minutes until reluctantly he turned away.
     "I think that will do for now," he said pulling his shorts up and easing
his cock inside, and added, "I have to put it on three times a day."
     "Don't worry," I said, "I'll help."
     "You won't," he cleared his throat nervously, "you won't tell anyone
about this. Only the other's might think we were doing something else and I,"
     I stopped him, "Doing what?" I asked innocently.
     He gave me a sideways glance, "Nothing," he said, "nothing. Come on
let's get back to work."
     Over the next three days I diligently rubbed his ointment in three times
daily, each time he became erect and we took longer and longer over his
treatment, especially the bedtime session, after which I noticed he had to
leave the tent to `finish himself off'. I tried to follow him out once but he
made it clear he did not want me around so I gave up trying.
     The last session he let me go on longer, "That's the last of the
ointment, he said, as I began to rub him, "and it seems to have cleared up,"
he added reluctantly, "I won't need to get any more," he remarked in a
wistful tone.
     "I'd better give it a good rub then," I said, "make sure it all goes
in."
He sighed and lay beside me belly to belly so that the others in the tent
could not see what we were doing. I manipulated his cock as before only this
time he did not stop me.
     We were both pyjama clad, for which I was grateful as they hid my own
throbbing organ. His cock and balls were completely outside his fly and I
massaged his balls with one hand whilst I worked his cock. His breathing
became harder and his eyes were half-closed, there was a strange gleam in
them.
"Mustn't, mustn't, wrong," he was whispering slowly and then he breathed a
throaty, "Aaaahh" as he ejaculated.
     He lay slumped against me as I worked the last of his spunk out of his
cock and then we lay still for a few minutes. I could feel the pool of
cooling semen spreading on the rubber groundsheet between us. Suddenly Ollie
started and muttering something about `clearing up', produced a handkerchief
and rubbed at the ground between us. Without saying another word we turned
away from each other and got into our sleeping bags.
     The next morning Ollie was a little distant and it was not until
breakfast was over and cleared away and the rest of the Patrol sent away to
get water and wood that he brought me into the tent.
     "Look about last night," he said uncomfortably.
     "Is anything wrong?" I said reaching for his fly and trying to undo it,
"has the soreness come back, do you need to...?"
     He pulled away as I freed his cock from its confinement. He lay back his
cock already hardening, "Bloody thing," he said, "it's always getting.," he
looked at me, "it's you," he said, a look of wonder on his face, "you make it
do this. Look at it."
     I needed no further invitation. "Looks a bit red to me," I said reaching
for it and almost managing to touch it, "perhaps you do need some more
ointment."
     "No," said Ollie, pushing my hand away, "that's enough. I should not
have let you...," he was lost for words for a moment, "..er ..help," he
finished lamely, "your too young to understand," he ended.
     We sat there for a short time and gradually his cock went down. "That's
it," he said, "that's it, it's finished," then looking at me he said, "Come
on, we've work to do." He zipped up his shorts and out we went.
     For the next few days nothing untoward happened. Then in the afternoon
after a very hot hardworking day we were relaxing in the lake. Ollie was once
again on his own in the hollow and I carefully swam up beside him. He lay
relaxed slowly opening his eyes as I nudged in beside him.
     "Oh it's you," he said sleepily, "and look, look what's happening," he
pointed with a finger out of water.
     I looked down to see his cock slowly thickening until it was pointing
hard across his belly. I lay beside him and sensing his need put out my hand
and began to stroke his gently pulsating cock. He looked at me with semi-
lidded eyes and I heard the smallest of sighs as I stroked his cock. We lay
there for some ten minutes, watching the others playing in the lake until at
last, reluctantly he took my hand of his cock.
     "Enough," he said, "I'll see Bob and get some more ointment for tonight.
Now go and join the others."
     I giggled, "Do you need any ointment?" I said, "perhaps you just need
the massage."
     Ollie looked at me through his thinned eyes, "You may be right," he
said, "we'll see."
     Disappointment however was to follow. After lunch Bob announced that the
Patrol Leaders were to go on a night hike and would spend the next day
recovering, this would give the Patrol Seconds a chance to run things and
give the Patrol Leaders something different to do. The end of camp was also
nigh and we had but three nights left. That night I tossed myself to sleep
wondering if Ollie was doing the same.
     The next night we had a massive Campfire with songs and stunts and a
feast and by the time the Patrol Leaders came to bed, the rest of us were
well into the land of nod, try as I might I was unable to keep awake. Ollie
did not make any attempt to wake me.
     Morning again came and it seemed nothing was going to happen. I kept
looking at Ollie but he was too busy organising the clean up of the site
before we struck camp the next day. It was not until after lunch when we were
lying down for our usual hour after eating that Ollie asked me to follow him
into the wood. We walked into the wood until we reached a copse with a sunny
spot. Ollie sat down on a tree root. I knelt between his open legs.
     "It's no good," he said, "it doesn't' matter what I do, or what I think
you still make it happen whenever I am close to you. Even last night lying
beside you I could not get comfortable. Go on," he said, "go on, do it."
     Eagerly I eased his hard cock from his shorts and in no time he was
shooting his sperm across my hands on onto my chest. I knew however that
there was more to come and I lay between his legs, stroking his limp cock
until it once again got hard. This time I managed to get him to come across
my face and bent down to wipe the last few dribbles into my cheeks. He lay
back against the tree, sated.
     We did not speak on our way back to camp.
     That night our last night, I was again summoned by Mark to help them get
a yet again drunk Ollie back to the tent. He was holding onto a tree, weaving
slightly and his shorts were down around his ankles.
     "We can't do a thing with him," said Mark, nodding at the others ranged
around him, "he keeps asking for you to come and take care of him. I've never
known anyone else get like that on scrumpy. Never again. Can you take him
from here, we want to get some sleep before breaking camp?" he added.
     "I'll see to him," I said watching the others move off.
     Quickly I helped Ollie remove the rest of his clothing and folding it
into bundle walked the naked boy towards the campsite. We sat in the middle
of the site, by the communal fire where we had gathered for the campfire and
I tossed him there, his spunk flying into the embers of the dying fire. Back
in the tent he came twice over my face and I did the same to him twice. In
the morning he let me stroke his cock until it was time to get up and after
that we worked hard finishing the camp strike.
     In those days we did not have the luxury of cars so we went back in the
back of the lorry along with the equipment. Once it was all stored, we made
ourselves places to sit or lie for the journey home. Usually the Patrol
Leaders sat together and the others sat or lay in groups of friends or patrol
members.
After about twenty minutes into the journey Mark pulled me into the Patrol
Leader corner.
     "He's gone off again," he said, "he's lying in the back there on the
tents. I think he's pissed again. He's calling for you, can you see if you
can do anything for him or with him. If he's going to be sick, get him off
the tents he'll ruin them."
     I crawled into the back where Ollie lay lounged over a pile of packed
tents. He was in a similar state to the previous times, he'd obviously not
got rid of the alcohol in the short time he'd had to sleep and the leisure of
the journey had allowed the drink to work itself back into his system.
Carefully I slid in beside him and undid his shorts; he was now wearing
underwear so I had to work his knickers down as well. He lay back happily as
I stroked his cock.
     He came three times before we finally finished our journey, spunking
into the back of the lorry whilst the Troop laughed and giggled and sang its
way home. I came twice, covering his slimy cock with my own sperm and wishing
the journey would go on forever.
     When we got to the end Mark said, "I don't know what you do or did to
keep him quiet but thanks, its behaviour like his that can ruin things for
others. He'll keep away from scrumpy now. I made sure he didn't bring any
back. Thanks."
     Once we had unloaded we joined our parents who had come to take us home.
I noticed that Mark made sure that Ollie got home safe, his parents were away
and not due back till late evening so Ollie was staying with him. It would
also give him a chance to sober him up. I wanted to say goodbye but didn't
get the chance.
     The next morning we were back at the hut to get everything unpacked and
cleaned and put away, ready for the next camp. Ollie was there but we were on
different duties and our paths didn't cross until tea break, even then we
didn't speak, just nodded and stayed with our peer groups. When it was time
for me to go, there was no sign of him so I left the hut alone.
     He was waiting for me outside, by one of the thick trees that lined the
path to the hut. He turned and I followed him into the scrubland wilderness
that sided the fence to our property. He entered a hollow which was known to
be used by the smokers and stood still. Again I found myself standing before
him.
"I don't know what or how you do what you do but this is the last time. Is
that clear?" he was quietly assured.
     I nodded. He began to undress, waving me aside when I moved to help him.
Finally all he was wearing was his underpants, which tented heavily where his
cock strained to get through. I noticed there was a wet patch on his knickers
where the tip of his cock was leaking. He nodded to me.
     Carefully I eased his underpants down and he stepped out of them. I
began to stroke his thickening, glistening cock as he stood there naked and
fully aware, there was no scrumpy, no camp freedom, just lust. As before his
orgasm was quick and heavy and his sperm coated my hand with a thick layer of
man-cream.
     For his second orgasm, we lay on his and my clothes so that we were
comfortable when he ejaculated over my face, this time rubbing his own cock
against my cheeks and lips. His third coming was into my groin where he
coated my spurting cock with his own juice, we orgasmed within microseconds
of each other.
     Finally he led me back to the hut, our clothes in bundles and for the
last time came on my face and down my chest, dripping onto my own once again
spasming, sperming cock. He pulled me to my feet and kissed me gently on the
lips. I slowly helped him to dress and for the last time, after kissing his
still semen coated cock slipped it back inside his trousers and zipped him
up.
     We both did not know that he would not be a teenager when I would see
him spunk for me again. I did see his cock a number of times, it was even
erect and at one swimming gala he shared a changing booth with me and boasted
that it was not stiff until I smiled, licked my lips and moved my fingers in
a circle, causing him acute embarrassment as it would not go down, even when
he jumped into the water. He told me years later that he'd had to toss
himself three times before it would lie down that night.
     But to return to David.
     That afternoon we played as usual and then it was decided to kick a ball
around. I sat down on the sloping path side to watch as they ran around. As I
said Ball games were not for me and I was happy to watch them run around,
occasionally falling down and getting the odd sight of a boys knickers, if
they had the wide bottomed shorts on.
     Those not playing or knocked out if it was such a game would sometimes
sit with me and if there was a dispute then I would be called upon to
adjudicate.
On this occasion, David came to sit with me and to my surprise sat between my
legs, leaning back against me. Again I found my hands falling between his
legs and resting on his groin. I could feel his young prick as it got harder
and harder and I carefully began to squeeze it as best I could through his
shorts.
     Wanting to feel more I moved my hand up and tried to insert it between
his waistband. He pushed back into me knocking his head almost against my
chin and whispered, "That's uncomfortable, just undo my flies."
     I put my hand down and undid his fly and slipped it inside. I could feel
his thin cock through the thin material of his knickers and began to caress
it. After a while I tried to find my way to actually touch what was hard and
throbbing hotly but I could not find the fly entrance to his knickers. I put
my hand up, trying to get into the top of his knickers, but his pullover,
shirt and the top of his trousers were in the way.
     "I said undo my shorts," he whispered, "the belt snaps apart, you can do
it with one hand."
     "Someone might see," I said worried, we were close to the path edge and
it looked to me that anyone walking past, like a dog owner out for a walk
would be looking right where my hands were.
     "Nah," he said, "All they can see is my crossed legs and your crossed
legs, besides why should they look at us. It's the ball players that they
will be looking at."
     Still not confident nervously I did as he said. His snap belt buckle
eased open easily and his waistband unbuttoned with a simple pull. I was now
able to pull his briefs open at the top and work my hand into them. At last I
was holding a very hot and throbbing young cock in my hand. I began to work
it.
     "Slower," he whispered, "slower."
     I did as he asked, putting a finger down to tickle his small hairless
balls.
     "Nice," he whispered, "that's nice."
     We sat there like that for some minutes until I began to feel
uncomfortable as my wrist was trapped by the waistband of his knickers. It
was getting harder to move within the confining space and I wanted to see
what he had to offer.
     "My wrist is rubbing against your knicker elastic," I told him.
     "OK," he said, "let's go for a walk."
     Carefully he got up and we wandered down the open path. At the corner
was a tree up against the adjoining walls so I suggested we went behind it.
     "Ok," he said.
     Behind the tree I sat down. David stood between my legs pulled off his
pullover and let his shorts drop. He then sat back on my pullover covered
lap, his shorts bunched around his ankles. He leaned back against my chest
and brought my hand back down between his legs.
     Carefully I eased open his shirt and pulled his vest out of his
knickers. They were a matched pair, the cotton sort with lots of little holes
in. I caught sight of his belly button; it was cute and protruded slightly.
Now I eased his knickers down to his thighs, finally revealing his thin short
throbbing cock. It was a beautiful sight. It was about four thin inches long
and the cockhead glowed pink red. His whole genital area was pale white in
colour and even his little balls were the same translucent tone. We lay there
as I stroked him to a dry orgasm. Once he had come he put his head back and
up and kissed me gently on the lips.
     "How old are you?" I asked.
     "Seven," he said, "you wank good. Come on lets do it again," and he put
my hand back around his still hard and hot cock."
     I opened his shirt still further and pulled his vest up until his
nipples could be seen. I tickled them one at a time as I stroked his cock.
Suddenly he moved forward and I thought that I had done something wrong but
he was only undoing his shirt all the way. He slipped it off and then pulled
his vest up and over his head. I now had full range of his upper body. He
again leaned forward and pushed his knickers down to his ankles with his
shorts.
     "Do you want me get naked?" he asked.
     "Its too dangerous," I said, worried as we did not have much cover to
hide us if anyone came around, "you have too many clothes to explain to
anyone who saw us," I explained lamely.
     "OK," he said, "next time I'll just wear a T-shirt and shorts, you can
do me in the tunnel then, especially if it rains."
     We concentrated on bringing him off. I worked his pulsing little cock as
he told me to. He was soon arching his back into his second orgasm.
Afterwards as his breathing subsided he put his hands behind his back onto my
cock, which was now tenting my own trousers.
     "Hey that feels big. Come on let me do you now," he said squeezing my
own throbbing lump. "Here stand up," he instructed me.
      I found myself leaning back against the trunk of the tree as he stood
beside me and undid my trousers. They soon joined his by my ankles and my
briefs followed suit. His practised hand was soon working my cock and it
didn't take too long before I was spurting a thick load against the wall. He
then leaned around to rub the last drips as he worked them out of my cock
against his own cock. As a last surprise he bent down and sucked the head of
my cock into his mouth, cleaning all the semen off it. The sensation that ran
through me was electric and I actually felt the hair on the back of my head
rise.
     "Tastes good too," he said.
     I was amazed.
     Reluctantly we got dressed and went back to join the others. By this
time they were fed up of ball games and I had to invent another mad running
around team game. I did not see him go but knew I had to be back the next day
early when I would see and `do' him naked. I spent two loads that night just
trying to get to sleep.
     The next day I was there waiting for him at ten o clock. There were few
boys there so I left them kicking a football around until more turned up.
David was late, but when he did turn up he was true to his word. He wore a T-
shirt and shorts and sandals and as he leaned towards me he pulled open the
shorts to show he had nothing else on under them. I gazed fascinated at the
small lump of his cock.
     "The tunnel," he said.
     I followed him in.
     To be continued..........
Well I hope you are enjoying my Boylover's Tales- if you can't find all the
stories in the series on the nifty pages then e-mail me and I will send you
the current list - CUMMING SOON Loving Dad Part 2, Prisoner COC5UK3R 69 Part
2, Eyes Opened Part 2